


His Name Wasn´t King

by tojund_for_us



Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, M/M, Secrets, atempted rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tojund_for_us/pseuds/tojund_for_us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things didn´t go the way they were supposed to go. django slowly finds out about Kings past. It´s actually an own version of the movie. I kinda stuck to it, but altered it at a few Points to tell my own story.   (paused, I guess)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hunting dessert

They lay for hour by now. On the dusty ground, waiting and watching that little house a few hundred feet away. Django was getting bored, King could tell by the sniffing next to him. “King, can´t we just get outa tha´ heat. He don´t run away.” Django growled.

“Django, please stop moaning. We have to be patient. If we want to have his bounty, we´ll have to wait for him… and he will run away… or at least try to.” King replied. “What about you go to the cart and prepare lunch?”

Django nodded and stood up to disappear behind their shared cart, while King turned his attention back to the house in the burning heat, but his head snapped back when he heard a shot nearby. He snatched up and ran around the cart, his riffle in his hands. “Damn bastard! That were our meat!” Django shouted at an obviously dead,small fox, who had tried to steal their food. King leaned against the side of their cart and let out a breath he wasn´t aware of holding.

“That _is_ our meat, Django. But well done. There´s just the bad side effect that our friend back there in the little house now knows where we are and that we are here.” King sighed. “That bad?” Django looked at him unimpressed.

“ _Is_ that bad, Django. And yes, it is.” A clack behind his head let King stop dead in his tracks as he heard the voice of their bounty next to his ear.

“Not so fast, Misters! I don´t know ya, but I think you´d like to have my bounty.” King´s hands rose and he turned around smiling.

“Well, yes I suppose we do. But befo-“Before he could end the other man turned his riffle around grinning and everything went black.

  
A strange figure was saying something to him, but King couldn´t understand and he didn´t care either. He didn´t want to move, his whole body felt so heavy. “King, King! C´mon, doc!” Django? King´s eyes snapped open. Was that Django? He tried to move now, but failed to even speak. Slowly everything cleared and he now could see a slightly worried Django who smiled at him relieved and helped him up to stand on his own two feet again.

“What happened, Django?” He asked.

Django held him on his arm as he responded: “He were too slow, so I grabbed his riffle and fight him with my hands. He weren`t very strong, so shot him. Over there!” Django seemed satisfied with his own explanation and pointed right behind King, so he turned around to see their bounty laying there shot in the back.

“Well done, Django.” King replied and tapped the other´s shoulder. They smiled. Django always tried to hide it, but still failed, not to show that he was proud because of such simple compliment.

“No, King. I will deal with our bounty. Ya go into the cart and find something cool your neck. Looks like turning purple.”

King sighed, but obeyed. He could feel his neck burning with pain so he didn´t dare to touch it. He felt so old and weak. Django always had to look after him. It was like he himself was an old lonely but wise wolf who was blind on one eye, wasn´t able to walk long ways and was something near deaf. And Django was the young wolf student who was full of strength and energy, who protected his “something near disabled” teacher and who did most of the work he, King, was blamed for. King sighed and watched Django putting their bounty on that second horse, King couldn´t remember the exact name of, while he pressed a kerchief filled with ice cubes, he magically found in the cart, against his neck. Django was so strong. King could see his muscles working where he had put up his clothes to cool himself in the heat while working.

“King, ´ve finished. We can go!” Django shouted and ordered Fritz to walk the shortest way to the next Sheriff in this wildness.


	2. `Cause soap doesn´t belong in a bottle

A few months later  
They came to a stop on a river and crawled out of the cart stretching their bodies, arching their backs to get a little life back there again. They just had given away their last bounty, so now they were in no need of more money, so they could take a wonderful bath after that last unnerving month. Their last bounty had them literally run through half America. They had slept through storms, pouring rain and incredibly hot nights in the dessert, in the deepest forest and the ugliest places ever found. “C`mon, Django. Let´s take a bath out here. I need it and you too. We need to wash our clothes, die stehen ja vor Dreck!” King said. “Sorry, I couldn´t understand the last part.” Django replied and looked at him like a child. He always did when King said something in German. He always wanted to know what it meant. King thought at first he wanted to learn it so that he might be able to talk to Broomhilda like that one day, but King now knew better. Django was just curious. So he smiled and turned around to look up into Django´s face. “Well, it is a very rude way to say how muddy and dirty our clothes are, Django. But also a very common way to say it.” He answered while he stripped his clothes from his naked skin. Django next to him did the same and after pulling his shirt over his head he nodded. “Oh, OK. So nothing in particular. Just stating what you said before.” King pulled off his shoes and put them next to his properly folded clothes. “Well, yes it is. You understand what I say, sometimes even without me saying something.” Django snickered beside him. “Ya think I know ya so well?” and opened his belt. “Yes I think so. Sometimes I don´t need to say anything and you know what I mean.” King stated and let his trousers fall down to step out of them. Next to him Django jumped into the river with a “Whooohooo!” sound and came up again seconds later. “C´mon, doc. Jump in too!” But King just face palmed and ran away shouting: “We forgot the soap, Django.” Django shook his head laughing and began moving in the warm water while coldness surrounded his upper body parts. That was when he recognized someone a few feet away. He stopped. It was a woman, it was Broomhilda.  
King searched until he found a little interesting bottle. It seemed to be some kind of oil, King couldn´t remember to be the owner of, so he just shrugged and put it back in its place and found the soap seconds later. He returned to the water but found it odd that Django was nowhere to be seen nor was his laughter to be heard. “Django?” King asked. He went a little up the river only to find Django standing in the water without even blinking. King decided to shut up so he stood there watching Django slowly beginning to move again. He moved a few feet up the river and stuck out his hand like he wanted to grab somebody´s arm- just… there wasn´t anyone. The move of those strong and big muscles, so slow and gentle. King wished that gentleness was meant for him. He shook his head. Don´t think that way, King! He´s your bounty hunting partner and you have to help him find his Broomhilda. He turned around to slowly walk back to their clothes and stopped there. He really should go into the river. The coldness of the autumn was dangerous if catching a cold wasn´t one´s intention. “Stop it, King! You both are friends. He´s married, remember?” He mentally slapped himself. For letting his old dirty mind imagine this wonderful gentle hand touching his bare skin instead of cold fog. Oh, why did he have to be so perverted his whole life?! Even as an old man it didn´t stop. And he had had hopes it might fade away with time. King shook away his bitterness again and slowly went into the river to feel the warmth crawling up with the water. “Hey, doc! What took you so long to come back?” Django appeared from up the river and tried to smile a little bit, but he failed. King shrugged and tried not to stare at Django´s muscular body. Why now? He had seen him naked before! “Eh, I wasn´t able to find the soap. What´s … up?” Django looked down to where the water was reflecting his face. “Broomhilda. I miss my Hilda, that´s all.” King nodded. OK, that was logical, not to tell him what had just happened. But it explained that look and the strange behavior of him moments ago. “I´m glad you have something to return to, something to fight and life for.” Now it was his turn to look down. “King” Django said quietly “I think everybody have something to live for. Even you, whether you believe it or not.” King shook his head. “No, Django. There´s nothing for me.” … except you. He finished in his mind. Django didn´t reply and just grabbed the bottle of soap from King´s hands. They bathed in silence, washed their clothes without a word said and stayed in their own thoughts until it was time to sleep. They settled next to their little fire. “Hey, doc. Everybody lives for something. Don´t you try tell me you don´t fight for somethin´. Even without tellin´ me I feel there´s something you fight for. Maybe not for your own good but for someone else´s. Don´t you think you don´t have somethin´.” Then he rolled around to face him his back and fell asleep. King sighed watching his friend until he got up and walked over to Fritz. “Na, mein Junge. Now that he´s asleep I can talk to you. It´s just you and me now. And one day we´ll be alone again... forever.” He sighed again and padded Fritz neck. “Fritz, swear to me you will carry me to my grave and don´t care what others do. What do you think? You think my way will part from his if I help him? I´ll want you to become his good horse if I die.” He turned around to lie himself beneath his blankets again. “Good night, Fritz,… Django!”   
Django yawned and stared around sleepily when he realized that King wasn´t in the place he should be. He looked for him but he was nowhere to be found, so Django stood up and walked away with only wearing his pants and his colt in his hand. First he walked down to the river and the fields, searched them for King, called his name and jumped when a rabbit ran away behind him. Finally he turned to the little forest nearby to search. He knew it was a beautiful one, but also dangerous, because anybody could hide in there. So he decided to shut up. Not everybody needed to know that he was looking for his hunting partner he had lost at any time in the middle of the night. Why did he have to just walk away from their sleeping place without a word? Django walked very carefully to avoid any strangers. A crackling to his left startled him and he raised his gun watching the forest. “Morning, Django!” King said and approached him with his always shown friendly smile, but something was bothering Django on that smile. He just didn´t know what it was. “Nice little forest, isn´t it? Sorry for just disappearing. I just wanted to go for a walk.” Now Django recognized what was bothering him. That smile was not the usual light one, it was strangely forced. What was up with King? Why did he have to force a smile? He had never had to, even to the face of death his presented smile had always been light, calming and explaining. Django nodded slightly and replied: “OK. Let´s go eating breakfast then?” 

King tried to not make any noises as his hands flew over his cock. He stopped immediately when he heard Django shouting for him in the fields nearby. Oh god, he was close… but what should he do? Should he get himself off and hide from Django or suppress his need and ease the slight panic out of his best friend´s voice? No, last wasn´t an opportunity. What would he do if he would recognize the bulge in King´s trousers? No, he couldn´t do that to their friendship. So the first one he decided as he came his face buried in the fabric of his elbow. He stood there for a while panting until he heard Django coming up to the bush he hid behind. He pulled his clothes into order again and walked around the poor plant that was departing the two men, while King tried to set up his best smile with the hope that his hair wasn´t too messy. “Morning, Django!” He tried to say with a happy and calm voice, but to judge the look on Django´s face he had failed. “Nice little forest, isn´t it? Sorry for…” Meine Güte, what was he blabbering? He was surprised when Django just nodded and asked: “OK. Let´s go eating breakfast then?”  
They walked back in silence, King wondering if Django recognized anything, but he didn´t dare to ask any thing. He shot a side look to Django but his friend was walking next to him looking straight forward. Maybe he had seen or heard something? King sighed, feeling guilt crawling up his neck and burning in his eyes along with unshed tears of shame. Oh, he was an old pervert with no love, just guilt for the kind of people he had ever fallen for. There was no hope for him left in this world, he knew it. Love had failed on him. And now? The only thing he could think was tall muscular with dark hair, dark skin and huge scars on his back, walking just right beside him and was named Django. King hated his love life. There was no way he could get to Django´s heart or even get the courage to tell his friend his true feelings for him. Both let themselves fall on the ground with a plate of food in their hands. “So, King. What we do now? Since we got our money.” Django asked between two bites. King looked up in surprise. He didn´t expect Django to start a conversation. “Mmh… What about going to the nearest city and look what we can do for our little princess Broomhilda?” King answered after he had swallowed a bite. Django nodded. Suddenly something popped up in King´s mind again he had forgotten about through the last night. “Hey, Django. Yesterday when I searched for the soap I found a bottle filled with oil and I can´t remember to own something like that. Is that yours?”Django choked on his bite and began to cough. “You… you found that?” Django looked shocked and relieved at the same time. King felt his guilt rise again. “Sorry if it´s something private and important for you. It wasn´t my intention to intrude your private space.” King apologized politely. “Na, no problem. Happy you found it. I lost it little time ago. Happy it´s still with me.” Now King was curious. “May I ask, why is that bottle so important to you?” Django looked at him for a moment, then turned away to stare at something else. “Think it was five years ago.” He began muttering his story he obviously wanted to tell. “It´s a gift of my closest friend in slavery. He was slave too. One night, he wake me up and gave it to me. He said: Give it to the white man who´s different. He somehow knew not every white man were racist. When I got that I asked him why he give me that bottle. It was the only thing he had from his ol´ freedom. He smiled that night, I could see his white shiny teeths. He just answer: I know our owner. And next night…” Django´s voice had turned into a whisper. “Next night he was shot. I don´t even know why, but he knew. I… I was there when he got shot. His last words. He shouted so the whole house could hear him, but they are meant for me. Where I go, there´s no bottle of freedom with me, there´s a bottle of me with freedom. You´re gonna be… free!” Django´s voice broke and he looked away quickly, but King had seen the tears in his eyes. Now, what could he say? It was one thing to calm an angry man, but what to do about your best friend crying like a child cause of all that hate, pain and coldness he had experienced for so many years? “He was a good friend, Django. You had pain in your life, much pain, but you also had happiness. Many white people have their money, but they can´t buy happiness. You´ll never be alone with your pain. I´m glad you had a true friend.” He placed a soothing hand on Django´s shoulder. The other looked up to meet his eyes. “So? Ther´s many white people without happiness? Tell me one white asshole who ain´t got happiness!” Django sounded bitter. Of cause, he had enough reasons to hate people with white skin. King gulped. One. Only one without and the one who came up to his mind at that word was he himself. His Family? Happy. His old friends? Happy with a partner for live and at least two children. “Me.” He whispered and stood up to clean his plate. Verdammt, did he have to say that? “King!” He heard Django shouting behind him, but he didn´t turn around nor did he stop walking. He heard him coming up beside him, but didn´t react. “King, why you unhappy? Is it cause you don´t have something to return to?” Django sat down next to him beginning to wash his plate too, but he stopped as soon as he had begun to gaze at King with his child look at his face. King ignored him until his own plate was washed then looked up and smiled sadly. “Nor everything in my life went the way it should, mein Junge.” He said and stood up while turning around. Django followed him. “ What you mean? There´s nothing in life that should go a certain way. Not for a free man.” King stopped to look at him and sighed. “Django! Would you be so kind and just stop pushing me to tell you? I just don´t want to talk about it… I… really appreciate it that you trust me enough to tell me the story about the death of your best friend. I know it hurts, but I can´t tell you my story. Please. Drop it. Someday, I´ll tell you. I promise.” Django looked a little bit hurt, but nodded to agree with the promise.


	3. If German was as hard to understand as to speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there are a few words in german in this text, so I decided to tell you the meaning of it  
> Dein Bürgermeister= your burgomaster  
> Oh Gott=my goodness  
> I hope you enjoy reading it. Now here we go!

Days later  
They were in a little town, had found out about Broomhilda and her current owner. They had bought new supplies that day and King then had told Django he wanted to entertain himself a little bit. Django had just nodded and now carried a few new supplies to their cart.  
After preparing it he went around town to look for King and maybe get him to tell his life story that evening. To the fact that King had never drunk much in Django´s presence, the former slave was surprised and slightly shocked to meet King in a bar sipping one glass after another, each in one big gulp. He just wanted to open his mouth, when he saw about ten men standing up and approaching King, so he tried to be as unremarkable as possible for a former slave, who got a stink eye by nearly everyone he walked by and watched from behind a table a few feet away. The age of the men in that group was very different. It seemed like three generations standing over there. One of them tapped King on the shoulder and said slightly drunken doctor turned around to stare at the bigger man. Suddenly he laughed. “Hey, look! Here´s a German burgomaster!” Then after another sip and a lower voice: “What you´re doing here uncle? Why did you leave our little town? Wha- Father! Brothers! And… ah, I don´t know you, boys… sorry.” The burgomaster suddenly held up a paper, a letter probably. King´s face went pale. Django had never seen him in fear and shock like that. There had only been one time he had ever gone pale on Django. That had been when King had thought Django was dead. The burgomaster´s expression didn´t change as he asked: “We heard you wanted to come back to Germany. How come?” King gulped, looked around licking his lips, obviously nervous. “ Can we discuss that another time in privacy?” “No.” And King was dragged outside through the backdoor by the gang… or whatever it was. Django wasn´t sure whether to follow or not. After a few minutes he decided to follow and when he got out he just came in time to see King with ripped clothes lying in the mud of the backstreet, the burgomaster hovering over him with a gun in the hand pointing at King´s head. Django didn´t wait. Out of reflex he drew and began shooting. Immediately the burgomaster fell and Django jumped around a corner expecting a dozen bullets flying after him, but there weren´t any. He waited for a response and just considered what to do, when he heard a scream from King. So no considering, when he sprinted around that damn corner to see the group riding away with their dead burgomaster packed on his horse leaving lifeless King lying in the dirt. Django dropped to his knees to overlook King´s wounds. He had lost blood, but not enough to die, the cuts he got weren´t deep, they would heal fast. Right in that moment Django heard King groaning quietly and looked up to see a letter next to his friend. “Hey, King.” He whispered “They left you a letter.” He picked it up and tried to read it. It was German. Django was still able to read it. He had read each of King´s German books, without the other noticing of cause. He hadn´t understood everything, but enough to what happened. And in this letter it said something like: - -You´re not “King” as your oh so wonderful name says, you´re a looser. A gay looser named Joseph. You´re a shame for our whole family, for our whole town. To tell you, it was a mistake of you to write us, you would come back and start all over again. Maybe you´re not dead in the next 24 hours, but believe us, we will never let you come back to Germany. Especially not to your beloved´s grave… we killed him three years ago.  
Die, you gay bastard  
Dein Bürgermeister- -  
King next to him groaned and sighed again. “Django?” He suddenly asked. “What does this letter say?” Django looked up, hoping he didn´t look too shocked and decided to keep his ability to read German well to himself. “Well, I can only read a few words, but I think it says something about you. It is about a king. That someone, maybe you´re not a king. Then there´s something about not dead, after that I can read 24 hours still in the same sentence and at the end it says something about someone got killed three years ago or so.” Django said carefully and quickly added: “I think.” King´s eyes snapped open. "Someone died?!! You´re sure?” When Django nodded he made a face. “Of who’s death would they inform- Oh Gott.” King pushed himself up, grabbed the letter violently from Djasngo´s grip and began reading himself. Slowly he let it drop and closed his eyes again. “It can´t be… they… killed Ralf! Django would you be so kind and let me lie here until I die?” Oh, Django had a good idea of who that Ralph could be, but instead of saying anything like that, he just asked: “Why?” King turned his head to look at him. “Wait. How much did you hear before you shot him?” Django shrugged. “He wanted to shoot you. Was enough reason for me to shoot him. Didn´t hear any conversation.” King nodded. “OK” Then his upper body fell back into the mud of the rain wet street. It took Django a moment to recognize that King had passed out with tears rolling down his old cheeks into the grey beard.


	4. The lover called Wolkenkartenleser (cloud maps reader)

A huge yellow golden field…   
Oh, come on, not that dream again…   
-Liars, you hear me? All liars…- -I know he´s alive, he knows how to fight- - Yes, ehehe, yes, but your *cough, some other Gollum sounding noise* father also, ehe, also said this about our… your little little brother. He wasn´t enough stronger, ehehe *cough, Gollum noise*- - Oh shut up! How many times did you say it by now?! He didn´t die no matter what you say!-  
He twisted around; he already knew the ending of the dream.  
-Ehehe there, there must be a beginning about dying. Why not him begin?-   
Goddamn that ironic weather, it was always shiny with warm temperature. He hated it for being like that every time he lost his only lover from Germany.  
-Shut up! He´ll be alive-  
God, he hated himself for saying that. Since the first time he had always hoped that it might be true one time, but he had known since then that he would never see Ralf alive again.  
Golden fields with red and in the red, there lay the one, Ralf, dead, his weapon right beside him  
Wait… What the hell-?  
-Ehehe, seems like*cough, cough* someone else´s same idea.- -I can see myself, you fucking idiot of whatever creature you are-   
The first few times he had tried to find out what this ugly thing was he had been talking to, but he´d given up.  
Django came down the hill, on Fritz, looking sad…-What… are you doing here?- -Came back from Broomhilda of cause. Thought there might be something wrong with you…not in a bad way, but felt, there would be something wrong with you in future-  
That sounded like Django was really lying next to him and telling him this, but  
-Django-  
Django…

King woke up with a startle breathing hard, feeling cold sweat running down his forehead. He immediately looked around himself. It was dark, not very warm, but warmer than German nights, Fritz looked concerned at him from next to the tree he was bond to and Django lay on the other side of their already burned down fire. He was asleep. King sighed and stood up slowly to walk over to Fritz. “Hello, mein Junge. You know what I dreamed of, don´t you? I can´t believe he´s already dead, but what did I believe in? It was clear, one of us would have to be vanished from the living. I always hoped it might be me, but I never got anything I had wished in my life.” He sighed again, but Fritz stretched his neck and shook his head as if he wanted to say: “No, King. You got Ralf´s love, you got my friendship and Django´s friendship and you can die with knowledge, that you helped him to find his Broomhilda again.” King stared at Fritz for a moment, then he nodded slowly. “ Yeah, you´re right Fritz, but I´m still a sad man with a sad life… I should sleep for a while again as you do. A tired warrior can´t face a dragon. Good night, my dear.” Then he crawled beneath his blankets again and fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes to a peaceful rest of the night.  
Django heard King laying down on the other side of the fire and falling asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Django´s idea has been right. Ralf had been King´s lover. Whoever Ralf had been, he must´ve been younger than the doc, Django thought. He turned his head to look over to King. That one burning question came up again: Why did King always help him, a former slave? Why was he so focused on making him happy by finding and rescuing Broomhilda? Why had he stopped and stared when Django had tossed away the blanket he had worn in that night until King had bought him to freedom? Maybe, the reasons King always told where the true ones. Maybe. Well, Django didn´t really believe them. He liked the idea of King liking him, maybe a little more like someone he had to take care of or like a partner or friend. Even though Django would never admit it, it was nice to think of King in these damn cold winter nights.  
The next morning was freezing cold. The sky was clear and blue as the night before. King had predicted that. “Hey, doc! What told you that it would be cold today?” King stopped packing his bags and looked over to Django. “What told me-? Oh, that… well, that´s easy. I learned that from my father. In Germany you really needed this rule. This rule says, it will get cold if there aren´t clouds in the sky through the night. Look, there are clouds nowhere to be seen!” King answered and pointed up. Django had never realized that before. He smiled at King. “Nice rule. Very easy.” King smiled back and Django suddenly felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of a happy King. He turned around to pack Tony, the horse King could never remember the name of, but Django stopped himself when he realized that he thought about King and his life, his behavior and the things that made King happy or proud all the time. He shook his head, sat up his horse and the both then began moving away from the fireplace, King talking to Fritz in German.  
“Doc?” “Mh, what is it, mein Junge?” King looked at him over the fire both were sitting by. It had become dark soon again and they had looked for a good place to stay over the night. Tis one was the best they found and both were glad to have found it. “In town… you talked about someone named Ralf was killed… who is Ralf?” Django immediately knew it was a mistake to ask that. By the way King´s eyes lost their warmth, he knew he had touched a sore spot. “Ralf.” King tried his usual friendly and polite smile, but failed. “He… was a good friend of mine. Nothing very interesting.” “Like Jamie were to me? Or… less?” King cocked his head to the side. “Jamie? Who is Jamie?” Django swallowed a bite of his meal, then answered: “Jamie, my best friend in slavery. Didn´t tell you his name?” King´s hand stopped halfway to his mouth. “No, you didn´t tell me. But what did you mean by like Jamie was to you?” Django chewed for a moment, then set down his plate. “We´re close friends even though he was like 20 years older as me.-“ “Than me, Django.” “-Than me. He believed that someday there won´t be slavery anymore… and that men…could like men like they are supposed to like women.” Django narrated carefully and chewed for another moment. He didn´t want to scare King or tell him something he didn´t want to know. “So?” King asked eventually. Django stopped chewing and swallowed. “Well, we…kissed every time we were alone. Sometimes it was a little bit more.” King gulped hard when Django finished the sentence. Moments passed in a quit uncomfortable silence. “So… You liked him, didn´t you?” Django looked up from his plate he had taken in his hands again after finishing his story. He nodded. King nodded. “Like Broomhilda?” Django stopped for a moment, then he shook his head. “No, more the physical way. I love Broomhilda, but I was really fine with Jamie. By the way, we never discussed, what we were, whether there even was a we. We never called it out to anyone, it was a secret, but I was fine with it…´til that fucking day he died. That day, I knew, he was in love with me. Not just words he said after a mind blowing night, cause he had told me while everybody could hear, he told me in a way only I could understand the real meaning of. ´Cause I knew him, he was my best friend and the best one I ever had.” Django ended and continued eating, when King set down his plate. “So, you wanted to know whether Ralf was to me like that, don´t you?” Django nodded and stopped eating once again to sit down in front of King. His own way to say “tell me”. King liked that childish innocent side of Django. King took a deep breath. Here it went. “Ralf… was my only friend in Germany. I had been an outsider, had been hated by everybody in town, but they let me live for only one reason: I was the only dentist there. The next one was miles away, so not an option. And Ralf… had always been there for me, had cared for me and had treated my wounds every time the others had beaten me up.” King was silent for a moment until he trusted his own voice again. “He was a special one.” He whispered with a small smile on his lips. “He was always called the Wolkenkartenleser. Cloud maps reader. He was called that name, because he was so tiny and slender and so lightweight, but he was the strongest of all young men in town. He was the one who could tell you the weather for the next day, was always happy and I… always had the feeling he would help me up and let me fly in freedom. Django, I think we were both once in slavery, even if you don´t think I had been.” He was silent for moment, then he decided, Django deserved the truth. “You know, right now you´re free and I´m the chained one.” He sighed and stood up leaving a thinking Django behind. “Come on, Django. It´s time to sleep! You won´t sit there throughout the night, will you?” King suppressed the uncomfortable feeling about the change in Django since King´s story and settled down to sleep pulling his blankets up to his chin.


	5. a strange dream and wet clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I´m sooooo sorry that I didn´t write earlier, but I lost the idea and din´t know how to continue. I´m really sorry!!! I hope this chapter will satisfy you.

So Ralf had really been King´s lover. Django sighed and lay down hearing King´s calm breath on the other side of the fire. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off into a strange dream.  
Broomhilda  
Again? Where did she come from?  
-Hey there my hero!- -Naa, me not really a hero. Didn´t find you yet. Where ya?- -You know where I am-  
Broomhilda came closer and smiled  
-I want you to tell him!-  
Tell whom what?... What did she – I´m talking about King, Django-  
Broomhilda lay her arms around his neck –What do ya want me to tell him, me flower?-  
She smiled and then laughed a little bit  
Wow, wonderful… her laughter, it was amazing  
-You love him like you loved Jamie- -What?! No, Hildy, believe me! Told I would never do that again.-  
She began moving away again. He took her hand to hold her with him, but she shook her head. –I hate it too, but I have to leave. I can´t let you die. You love him Django, I see it. And I don´t care whether you do or not, because he is the best white man you could have fallen for. Just tell him. I want you to be happy-  
She slowly disappeared and Django gulped while everything around him, the warmth, the sun and the summer faded into cold air and snow.

Django opened his eyes slowly and looked around. He realized that it was indeed cold like King had forsaken. “Hey, mein Junge!” King´s voice came from right next to him. Django turned to look at him. He didn´t look good like he had been awake and had cried the whole night. “Ehm, are you alright, doc?” King´s polite smile failed. Recently it had failed far too often for Django´s taste. “Well, I have to ask you the same, my dear Django! You were calling for Broomhilda in your sleep. Did you… cry?” King answered. Django brushed his hands over his face, then looked up and nodded. “Seems so. And you did so too, King! What´s the matter?” He asked softly. King seemed shocked for a moment, then he turned away quickly. “Nothing, Django, nothing.” Django grabbed his arm before he was able to stand up. “C´mon, King! I can see that there´s something bothering you. Is… is it about Ralf?” He asked again. “Django, damn it, cut it off, I don´t wanna talk about it! Just… just leave me alone.” King suddenly shouted new tears streaming down that face. “It´s my fault” He whispered, then he freed himself and ran away. Django stood there a moment, dump founded and without a clue of what to do next, but then he turned around to take care of their belongings.  
Django had decided to stay until King returned by himself. The only problem was right now that it was already getting dark and there still was no sign of him. Django was beginning to get restless and worried. Why didn´t King come back? Was something wrong? There was certainly something wrong. He slowly stood up from a new fire he had made and began searching his surroundings for his friend. It was almost dark when he found somebody lying on the other side of a river. The water wasn´t deep so he carefully walked over and almost dropped his gun when he saw that it was King. “Hey, King! Here you are. What´s up with you? What happened?” But King didn´t reply, he didn´t even seem to react to his own name. He was lying on his stomach. Django tried to push away the panic that rose in his chest and grabbed to turn the other man around. Django soon knew what was off: King was terribly under cooled. “Oh. Wait, hang on, doc. I´ll help you.” He took off his jacket as fast as he could, then ripped King´s wet clothes off. There had only been one time in his entire life he had experienced an under cooled person. He remembered that his owners had taken off the child´s clothes and had sent him to bring blankets. The mother had cuddled into the blankets with her child and had shouted orders to bring them something hot to drink. But now Django didn´t have something warm nearby and didn´t have blankets either. His clothes had to do. As next he picked King up to carry him all the way back to the fire. Django staggered the moment when King´s whole weight laid on him, but he fought himself forwards, one foot in front of the other, through the ice cold river again, the air burning in his lungs, but he still went forwards. He couldn´t allow himself to give up now, King´s life was depending on him! After what seemed to be hours he arrived at the fire, placed King next to it as careful as he could and collected all the blankets they had to bury King and himself underneath them. “King” he whispered desperately when said one hadn´t moved for a whole hour. Django had taken off most of his clothes except his underwear. “Hey, King. Don´t leave me here, you hear? Don´t leave me. I need you. Stay.” It was the last Django could remember before he fell asleep.


	6. Still alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I couldn´t really decide on wherther to be mean to everybody who likes them to be together or not. I ended up with the last one, so here you go! Hope you enjoy reading and if anything is expecially good or expecially awful please don´t hesitate to tell me!

King woke up in the middle of the night. There was a male body wrapped around him warming him up. Did he die that he could experience having another man in his bed wrapped around him again? Who was that, by the way? It wasn´t Ralf, that man here beside him was taller… and the skin on the hand that lay on his stomach was darker. Django? Carefully, not to wake him, King turned in his grasp to stare at Django´s sleeping feature. He looked so peaceful and so beautiful asleep. “No, King! Don´t! Stop thinking like that. It would kill him like it killed Ralf.” King let fingers gently rest on Django´s cheek and immediately felt guilt rising. He wasn´t supposed to feel like that, this was forbidden and he couldn´t stop himself. It was wrong, he couldn´t let it take control over him and his actions. But Django was so close and didn´t seem to care too much. He had been with Jamie, a man, too. But he was the only one who thought that King´s feelings were not a crime. And King wouldn´t be able to stand it if someone took Django away from him. This time, he swore to himself, he would be there and defend his one. He would die for Django even if he never told him how much he loved the former slave, even if said one could never feel any love in return King decided that dying for his love was enough. “But don´t do anything stupid, King!” He whispered to himself as he drifted off to sleep again.

Django woke up first this morning finding King pressed against him like his life depended on the younger one. Django smiled and stroked King´s hair. “You´re alive. Thanks, doc!” Then he leaned down and kissed the older one´s forehead before he even knew what he was doing. He looked around and immediately struggled to his feet. Shit, they needed food soon, it was very late already. King sighed, but didn´t wake up and so Django began pulling on his clothes to begin preparing breakfast. A groan indicated that King had woken up, but Django was too focused on the breakfast he was cooking to realize. “Hey, mein Junge. Are you making breakfast?” Django jumped slightly. “Uh, yeah. Want some?” He answered and King smiled at him with his real smile. “Yes, thank you.” Soon both sat next to each other with both chewing bites of dry bread and the usual morning soup. There was dead silence around them until Django couldn´t stand it anymore. “You alive.” He knew that he stated the obvious, but it was the only sentence that popped up in his mind. King nodded. “Yes, as you can see I´m safe and sound…Thank you for saving me, Django. I didn´t deserve that.” King bit his lip. He shouldn´t have said the last part. Suddenly Django slammed his bowl down making King flinch away. “Stop talking ´bout what you don´t deserve or shit! I would never let you down, you´re the only one I got left! You know I could be some white rich asshole´s slave by now. You saved me, why not me saving you?” King stared at him eyes wide in shock. “You saved my life more times than I can repay. And I don´t think you wouldn´t leave me.” At first King replied quietly, but now something broke within him and his voice rose. “Sorry, but I don´t believe you one bit. I´m just another white man around you and you will leave me behind, but that´s fine with me. I… just can´t live on like that. Even though I know that you don´t hate me for what I am, but that just doesn´t help my misery.” King pressed his hands against his face to hide it, tears streaming out from between his fingers. Now Django was the one to look shocked. “Hey, King. Don´t do that. Please. I will not leave ya, not even if I get Hilde back. You… see, you more to me than you think! King, how could I ever not like you? Don´t ya trust me words?” King was shaking violently and Django carefully placed a hand on King´s back to rub it gently. “How- Ow- Can I- hick- trust your- words?” Ok, that stung, King didn´t trust him, but that didn´t keep Django from trying his plan B that just had popped up in his head. He pulled King into a hug and whispered into his ear: “Then trust me actions.” And placed a soft, but meaningful kiss on King´s lips who froze the same moment they collided. Django pulled away again waiting for King´s reaction and silently hoped that he hadn´t misinterpreted him. King slowly shook his head, his eyes endlessly sad and the former slaves heart sunk. “Django… you still don´t understand? We can´t. They will kill you! And I can´t lose you.” Django looked directly into his eyes. King liked him back? But who could be a threat to them? King feared someone or something and he couldn´t stand this. “King, they won´t kill us as long as I have a gun and enough bullets. And I always have a gun and bullets.” It didn´t seem to have much of an effect as King turned away from him to stand up and leave in the direction of the forest again, but this time he stopped before entering it. “One cannot get over themselves so easily. Please don´t follow me, I want to be alone.” Django nodded, then looked down at his bowl again and realized that he wasn´t a least bit hungry anymore and so he picked his and King´s bowls up to wash them. Did King always have to run off? Django was a little bit nervous, because he knew now that there was a problem, a huge problem, within the German and him running into the woods to be alone would only end with trouble again like last evening. Luckily King showed up on his own this evening. He came slowly, his head down as if he was ashamed or tried to hide, sat down silently and took the meal Django held out to him. He looked tired and dirty as if he had run through the forest for the whole day, but Django didn´t dare to say anything for a long while. Eventually he got the courage to ask a little question. “King, what´s bothering you? Me don´t understand you, do ya even want me?” He sounded more hurt than he had intended to show since King told him he didn´t trust his words. The German looked up. “Django, don´t misunderstand me, but what we want is forbidden. We cannot do this.” “King, you answer my questions!” Django growled and for the first time in his life he saw that he scared King. “Stop pushing me, please. I… can´t- we can´t” King´s words lost themselves in an inaudible whisper. Django hung his head. “You fear something or someone, don´t ya?” He finally asked and King nodded almost shyly. “But what you fear?” A sigh was the answer, but then King moved over to him to put his forehead on the former slave´s shoulder. “Do you remember that I once told you that my life wasn´t the best?” Django nodded and there was silence for a moment. “That´s because in Germany, where everybody knew me, I was chased and hunted like a dog for my… sexuality. I told you that the only reason for them to let me live was my job- and nothing more. I was nothing without my job, I would´ve been sentenced to death it wasn´t for my work as a dentist. I fled and came over to America when I heard that it was easy to survive here. But the night I wanted to creep out of my village they came into my family´s house and you know what? My family didn´t even bother to stop them, they even showed them the way to my room. This night I learned what it felt like when trust is broken the worst way and I learned how it felt like to kill people. I already had a gun back then and I killed the first one to come into my room to whatever they had planned, but I was scared to death back then and- as Ralf used to say- humans are like animals, they will attack if they are hurt or scared. I think I was both of it back then. During my travel to America I taught myself how to shoot and by the time I came here I had made up my mind that I would become a lawman.” He stopped for a moment when Django draped an arm around his shoulder, but continued almost immediately. “Since then I have built up walls within me. I stopped trusting so that no friendship could ever be developed and no love could grow in my heart anymore. It´s not like I turned cold towards others, you know how I am, but I kept them at arms´ length. My life in Germany, I think it has planted… a fear within me. A-and I can´t get over it now.” King ended quietly and Django pulled him into a silent hug. “I understand, you know? I understand how it feels, but is there really no way we can get you over it? I wanna help ya, but tell me what I can do.” King nodded and pulled away. Django really cared for him, had even kissed him, but still King could feel the pressure of his past on his shoulders and back, always to remind him not to let his heart take over anything. Not now, never. But maybe there was a chance now for him to free himself with the help of a certain former slave, maybe he could let his heart take over the control over his actions one more time. “But therefore I have to ask you a question; how much do you… like me?” Django licked his lips nervously. He was not good with words and actions have always been enough for others to understand him. Now that he was supposed to say those three words he was feeling helpless, dumb and nervous. But he had to say them, because he was sure that actions could be misunderstood right now. And now here it went. Leaning a little closer to King´s ear he whispered as soft as possible: “I love you, King.” A breath, almost a sigh, against his cheek was the response. “Like… Jamie?” Django blinked. That was harder to answer. “Something between Jamie and Hildy. I can´t say yet.” Beard rubbing against his cheek indicated that King nodded. There was a silence Django didn´t dare to break while he held the German in his arms pressing him to his chest. Then suddenly tears began rolling down King´s cheeks again even though he had obviously done the best to hold them back. “I can´t stop worrying about what will happen. They will kill you too and this time I will have to watch or will not even find out as long as I live. They will enslave you again and it will all be my fault!” Django stroked his hair soothingly. “Hush, King. This will not happen again, ´cause I got a gun unlike your Ralf and I know how to shoot. We… just have to be careful, nobody knows us well enough around here, it will not be a big problem.” King pulled away to look into his eyes. “Yeah. Ok. We´ll be fine. We will find a way. You´re right, you can shoot and I can do so too. That makes two guns for our well-being.” Django looked back at him, caught himself staring at King´s lips and moved forward before he even realized what he was doing. King let out a soft sound as their lips collided again kissing back eagerly. “Oh god, you´re so right! We have to fight together. We have to try, we have to do this!” He whispered as he moved into the younger´s lap kissing him as if his life depended on those lips. Django couldn´t help but chuckle. “Say King, how long has it been?” The German blinked in surprise and confusion and turned red the moment he realized where he was sitting. He blushed even more when he understood the question. “You don´t want to know.” Django grinned cheekily. “Yes, me do.” He answered and King looked away for a moment to keep himself from doing stupid things. “Would you believe me if I told you that it has been almost 18 years?” Django stared at him. “18 years without a lover? That´s something I wouldn´t wanna live through!” King laughed. “Oh, it isn´t even that hard. You´ll get used to it.” Django´s grin reappeared, King could see that something had come to his mind, something naughty or dirty. “I do believe it wasn´t as hard as something down your trousers right now?” He asked and King bit his lip, suddenly serious again. “It will disappear with time. And by the way you´re not playing fair. We… should leave it at kisses for the start, ok?” Django´s grin disappeared and he got serious too. “Ok, you´re right. But you sure you can handle that?” King shot him a look as he crawled out of his lap again. “Don´t tempt me to accept this offer, Django. We have to talk this over first. We cannot just do what we want. I´m afraid that therefore we were born in the wrong century. Maybe in a thousand years, people like you and me are allowed to be themselves, but in the now and here we have to be careful of what we do.” Django nodded. He understood King´s fear of being caught and respected it, but he could only wonder about said one´s self control, because he himself had to struggle to stay where he was and not jump over to knock King over and take what he wanted. Of cause, he wouldn´t do anything if King didn´t want it, but he still wondered. They both settled down for the night in comfortable silence, wished each other a good night and soon Django fell asleep while King lay next to him on the same side of the fire and watched his peaceful face. He never thought that he could ever be so lucky so have another lover ever again and right now he couldn´t believe in this new happiness and the new life that was forming in front of his eyes so that he didn´t want to fall asleep just in case that this was only a dream and reality something completely else.


	7. Make a decision

Within a week the two of them had settled everything and were able to act normal like two bounty hunters would do around each other in public. King still always wanted to check out the places where they went, still planned everything into the last detail and Django often hugged him to stop him from thinking too much about the next coming days and their disguise. They were sitting on a rock eating their lunch while they enjoyed the view of the fields, a few towns and the mountains in far distance.  
“Hey, King. We alone tonight. Wanna have some fun?” Django suddenly asked seductively. King blushed a deep shade of red. He always did and couldn´t help it but glance over to his lover with big shining dog eyes. Django laughed. “Hey, don´t worry, King. It´ll be alright. Next town is somewhere down there. That´s one and a half day away. There won´t nobody be around at night!”  
King nodded. “Ok. But-“  
“Yes, we´ll be careful. Say, is something bothering you, my King?” Django cut him off.  
King shook his head, but it was a bit too fast and too strong that the former slave could believe him. And so he pulled him into a hug, kissed the grey hair and looked him deep in the eye. “Say, something wrong. And don´t lie again. I can see it.”  
King sighed. “Broomhilda. You will leave with her and head north, won´t you?”  
Django frowned. He didn´t really know what to do with this. “Um, yes, that was my plan. You always said that the people there are more understanding towards black skinned folks. Why you ask?”  
“Oh, just wanted to know.” King didn´t look at him, but instead he stared at his feet. “Listen. We soon will arrive at Candieland. Only over those few hills in our back and we will be in the fields around Candieland. We have enough money to buy her free and we have a good tactic. But we didn´t really talk about the relationship we want to present. Do you have an idea?”  
Django saw King´s tired face and decided to not to press him and so he allowed the change of the topic. “Dunno. But we supposed to be partners, you hired me as your personal advisor, you pay me for my job. Think the best is that we pretend not to know each other any further. Other idea?”  
King shook his head. “No.” Then, after looking around, he grabbed Django and pulled him down on their sleeping rolls and on top of him. “You wanted to have some fun?”  
“Oh hell, yes.” Django whispered in response as his fingers made their way to the buttons on King´s clothes, mostly his trousers. Django was so glad that this had changed within one week; that King accepted the love he was offered and was ok with having sex with his friend and lover. Django on his part loved those big tender hands all over his body and soon he had found out that King liked it when he was touched on the ribs closest to his heart. Still there were many rules that King didn´t want to let go of, but at least Django could convince him not to put up the rule that forbid sex if there was a town within the next 20 miles.   
Soon both of them lay in their own bedroll, fast asleep until the morning sun called for them to stand up. “Guten Morgen, mein Junge.” King grinned and immediately received a kiss from said younger man. “Guten Morgen, my King!” Django answered and held out a bowl with warm soup which King gladly accepted. He thought it was kind of cute that Django had the habit to make the best breakfast he could proceed with the available ingredients. Soon they put all their things together, packed their horses and continued their last path to Candieland.

As soon as they arrived half a week later they played their roles as if they never had been any other person they claimed to be now. King could feel coldness radiate from Django from the moment they entered Calvin Candy´s villa and it frightened him. It was a change he never had thought was possible since he knew how caring and gently Django was towards him. He once had asked said black skinned man about the reason why he was so friendly towards him and he just had answered that King had been friendly towards him since the beginning, so it was only logical. King supposed Django´s coldness now was just a mirror of others treating him as well.

 

Their relationship went on like this, both were fine with the way it was and felt like it was a dream coming true. Now they eventually reached Candieland and King began thinking about the future. What would happen if they were able to rescue Broomhilda? Would Django leave him? King wouldn´t be able to stand it and so he tried to push away those thoughts as best as he could. Django stood in front of him in the doorway that connected their guest rooms hopping from one foot to the other and clenching his hands into fists.  
“Ssh, Mein Junge.” King whispered. “You´ll do it. Don´t be so nervous, everything is planned. You have to be strong for her now more than ever.”  
Django nodded. “Yeah. You right, I can do this. And… King, promise me one thing. You will stay with us when this is over.”  
King hesitated for a moment, then he nodded and leaned forward to give his dark skinned partner a kiss. “Yes, I promise. I will come with you.”  
Django returned the kiss, but a knock on King´s door that lead to the corridor let them stop and they parted to take their planned positions.   
Django waited behind their connecting door shivering with anticipation with his ear close to the wood to hear the conversation on the other side. He didn´t understand much even though King spoke very slowly, but the door muffled the sounds quite well. Finally, when he already had thought it would never come, he heard the sign, the knock on the bed post and he slowly let the door swing open. “Hey there little troublemaker.” He whispered with a hoarse voice. Broomhilda passed out almost immediately and he just stared at her lying figure.  
King grinned at him in his special, nearly adoring way. “You silver tongued devil, you.”  
Django shot him an apologetic look. “You think she was so shocked to see me that she passed out? Not really her type.”  
King walked over and crouched down next to her to check her. “Oh, I think that´s quite possible if you see a person you really love and thought that you would never see them ever again. Now help get her into bed. I believe the floor isn´t that comfortable even with a carpet.  
Django nodded and slowly they both pulled Broomhilda up. When she laid in bed both stared at her, then King made his way over to Django´s room who looked at him puzzled. “You two should have a little time for yourself. If you need something, I´m next door.” King explained simply.  
“Wait, don´t go. Stay. Don´t ya want to get to know her too?” Django asked, but King shook his head.  
“No, Mein Junge. I can get to know her later on. It´s your time now.” Then he turned and closed the door behind him. He would make a decision for himself and everybody else. This decision was a plan that he had built out of his fear and he knew it was not the best for him, but maybe for many others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m so sorry that I lost track and had to find the Courage again to continue. Also sorry for mistakes and sorry if you think the Story worstened because I shortened everything, but I´m having a hard time right now and not the mind to write it properly. Hope you enjoy!!


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